


not promised tomorrow

by tumbleoutyourhair



Series: flying and burning [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, RUB OFF ON EACH OTHER, i pretty much cant tag anything without spoiling, i sure did, suffice it to say everyone is a drama llama, theyre starting to, tucker and wash have been spending too much time together, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbleoutyourhair/pseuds/tumbleoutyourhair
Summary: too quickly, wash pulls back and stands in one smooth movement. his expression is smooth, almost neutral, but his eyes are kind, crinkled in the corners and tucker bites back a sob.“i owe you your life,” wash says gently, and then he’s taking a step backwards, reaching for the console.tucker lunges forward, struggling against his bonds. “wash,no! don’t go! i–”





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~~prompt~~ yeah i've definitely lost the original prompt post. i'm sure it's somewhere in the backlogs of my blog but fuuuuuuuuuck if i'm going searching through that right now. it was definitely for something angsty though.
> 
> rated for tucker's pottymouth.

“wash, please, you don’t have to do this,” tucker pants, hand pressed tightly to his side. 

wash looks up at him from where he’s punching coordinates into the computer. there’s blood and ash smeared across his face, at odds with the soft smile on his lips. he crouches down before tucker, checking the makeshift bandage wrapped around his side.

“since it’s just you you’ll have enough oxygen for up to twelve hours–if the others don’t get to you by then, well. they’re probably dead too.”

tucker yanks restlessly at the cuff securing him to the bulkhead. “and what am i supposed to do then, huh? just float around space til i suffocate or bleed to death?”

wash huffs, checking that he hasn’t cut off the circulation to his wrist. “i’ve set the autopilot for our rendezvous point, so someone will pick you up.” he smiles wistfully at him. “you’ll be just fine.”

“no i fucking won’t! not knowing that you’ve stranded yourself here to die! this is bullshit!”

“this is what it means to be a soldier, tucker.”

“you don’t owe these people anything!” he explodes, panic setting into his spine. “you don’t owe them a goddamn thing and definitely not your life!”

wash tilts his head. “what kind of man would i be if i didn’t do everything in my power to try and help these people? i couldn’t live with it.”

tucker can feel his breath getting shorter, oxygen struggling to reach his lungs. “but at least you’d be alive, wash. _please_.” 

making soothing sounds in his throat, wash wraps a hand around tucker’s neck, pulling their foreheads together. “ _shh,_  it’s okay tucker, breathe. you’ll be alright. it’ll all be okay.”

“what about me,” he croaks desperately. “what about what you owe _me_?”

wash’s hand spasms, and for one brief glorious moment tucker thinks maybe he’s gotten through to him. then cool, dry lips are pressing against his and tucker can’t hear anything over the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears. 

too quickly, wash pulls back and stands in one smooth movement. his expression is smooth, almost neutral, but his eyes are kind, crinkled in the corners and tucker bites back a sob.

“i owe you your life,” wash says gently, and then he’s taking a step backwards, reaching for the console.

tucker lunges forward, struggling against his bonds. “wash, _no_! don’t go! i–”

“what are you doing?”

tucker freezes, hands suspended over the keyboard. turning his head, he can see wash standing behind his shoulder out of the corner of his eye. slowly, even knowing he’s been caught out, he reaches out to gently close the laptop, and oh-so-slowly, slide it under a nearby pillow.

“tucker…”

“oh hey, did you make me soup? you’re the greatest–have i told you that lately?”

sighing, wash walks around the couch, setting a bowl of soup and a sleeve of crackers on the coffee table. he sits at the end of the couch, watching tucker squirm his way out of his mountain of blankets and pull his goodies into his lap.

“were you writing passive-aggressive fanfiction about us again?”

tucker snorts wetly and wash winces. “what? pfft, _no_. why would i do that?”

rolling his eyes, wash shoves his bare feet under the blanket nest and props his head on his hand. “oh, i don’t know. could it be something to do with the fact that you’re a giant child?”

practically choking in his haste to swallow his soup, tucker turns and levels a glare at him. “i am not!”

“you’re mad because i won’t have sex with you,” wash drawls.

tucker gestures furiously at him, nearly upsetting his bowl. wash rolls his eyes again. “you also have the flu and are contagious.”

tucker sniffs loudly. “i am not.”

wash angles his head to stare pointedly at the garbage can on the floor between them overflowing with tissues. “i can see that.”

pouting, tucker stirs his soup morosely. “you just don’t love me anymore.”

wash barks out a loud laugh and tucker has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. shuffling around, wash curls up against tucker’s side, absently rearranging the blankets where they’ve fallen to expose his neck and shoulders. “that must be it. what were you writing about this time?”

“you were sending me off in an evacuation pod and staying behind to nobly sacrifice yourself,” tucker explains, slurping loud at his spoon.

“why am i always the one being noble and dying?” 

he shrugs. “cause you’re brave and shit and i can’t play amnesia without the lights turned on.”

wash huffs a laugh against his hairline. “that. and you’re mad at me.”

“that too,” tucker agrees cheerfully. “but i’ll be honest the soup is swaying me back to your side again.”

“thank god for my cooking skills then,” wash drawls, pressing a kiss into his dreads.

tucker hums in agreement, chasing a piece of carrot around his bowl. “your looks don’t hurt either. or your giant d–”

wash cuts him off with a sharp flick to his ear and ignores the subsequent yelp. “eat your soup you invalid. i’m gonna run a bath for you later.”

tucker’s never been so thankful that his skin tone hides any redness because wow would his face be red right now. he shoves his spoon into his mouth to avoid smiling like a fucking sap and hums his assent. 

wash presses another kiss to his cheek and gets up, stealing a cracker as he goes. wandering back towards the kitchen he calls out over his shoulder, “and maybe after that and you’re feeling better we’ll roleplay one of your fics that you write when you’re _not_  mad at me.”

tucker ends up spilling most of his soup onto the floor but the sound of wash’s laughter makes it oh so worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> so much for that angst huh
> 
>  [lets talk about space gays baby](http://agentwashingtrash.tumblr.com/)


End file.
